End Of The End
by Macavity
Summary: A dual birthday present: Seto Kaiba has long been misunderstood by the world, and tries valiantly to defeat Yami Mutou every chance he gets. He is a slave to his own unattainable goal...but what happens when he has a revelation? (UPDATED 2-27-05)
1. Happily Ever After

Disclaimer: Were Yu-Gi-Oh to belong to me, this disclaimer would not be here. Being that it is, feel free to infer that it does not, has not, and likely WILL not ever belong to me.

Author's Notes: As you've probably noticed, a lot of my stories got pulled down for being script format. I'm very sorry to all you people who enjoyed my humor stories, especially the Fairy Tale Collection. I was fortunate enough to save all your lovely reviews before that story got deleted, and I'm glad you all liked it. I may decide to archive them somewhere else that does allow script format, but I'll make that call later. Feel free to E-mail me about stuff as well.

At any rate, this story is a dual birthday present. The first is for Lady Jia, who is celebrating a birthday, and the second is for Seto Kaiba, the most misunderstood bish in Yu-Gi-Oh, whose candle-day is the twenty-fifth. So what I've planned is this: this first chapter, a first-person piece from Seto's point of view, is dedicated to Jia, who inspired it in the first place with her quirky ideas. The second chapter will be posted on Seto's birthday, as my way of giving him some love for all the abuse he tends to take.

What follows is a look at Seto's take on the events of the Battle City Finals. It WILL have spoilers for the end of Battle City. If you have not seen this far, or don't want to know what happens, please don't read the rest of this story. If you're good, then continue! And a very happy birthday to you, Jia no hime!

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Yu-Gi-Oh!

End Of The End

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As much as I hate to admit it, I wasn't a bit surprised when Yami Mutou won the Battle City crown.

I suppose I knew from the very beginning that he was going to defeat me. The power that surged through me when I first gripped Obelisk the Tormentor may have clouded that realization for a while, but somewhere in me I still always knew. Everyone else did, too, but when have I ever cared about someone else's opinion?

But the twisted realization is that not only did he win _my_ tournament, I _helped_ him achieve that victory. It wouldn't have been possible without me. _My_ hand sent _my_ card flying through the air to his hand, to his deck, to his draw when he needed it most. I gave him what he needed to bring about victory. A victory that, supposedly, saved the world.

If you asked Ishizu, I'm sure she'd tell you it was destiny that I did it. That five thousand years ago, Yami was the pharaoh and I was his priest, and not only were we rivals, we were friends. She'd say that destiny had _commanded_ me to read the ancient text on the Winged Dragon of Ra, decipher how to defeat it, and then provide the single card necessary for the pharaoh to win.

I don't believe a word of that. But let's pretend for a moment that I did.

The part I hate most about Ishizu's banter is that it makes me out to be some kind of lackey. I, the High Priest, was the _second_ most powerful man in the land of Egypt at the time. Second, of course, to the pharaoh. Now, in present day, I provided the reincarnated pharaoh with the tool he needed to defeat his foe. Second-best once again.

He'll probably be the gracious one when he finally talks to me, smiling and offering his hand and saying "I couldn't have done it without you..." while his friends look on. Couldn't have done it without me. Right. Of _course_ he couldn't have done it without me. But does that make a difference in the end? Not a chance.

That's like cheering for the blacksmith who forged Excalibur. When has anyone remembered _his_ name? Sure, everyone remembers King Arthur, the majestic conqueror, and everyone remembers his mighty enchanted sword. Sometimes even the knights are remembered...Lancelot, Galahad, Gawain...but what about the man who made it all possible? What would Arthur be without his Excalibur? Nothing more than a boy playing war.

I forged the sword. I gave him his weapon. And no one will remember me.

He's wearing his crown now, mingling through his group of friends and getting their congratulations as he passes. The crown on his head is the crown that was supposed to be mine; the title he now holds was supposed to be _my_ title as proof of superiority over my stepfather and he. I had it made especially for this tournament, sparing no expense. I wanted my crown to be regal and beautiful, as well as a mark of superiority. I wanted my rule to be absolute.

I tried it on once, when I was alone in my office. I disabled the security cameras and closed the drapes, just so I could be sure no one was watching, and then for a brief moment, I allowed myself to put that beautiful mark of authority on my head.

The experience was...not what I was expecting.

When I'd won my Duel Monsters titles, I'd felt like I was wearing a robe of authority. I was blanketed in power and everywhere I looked, I saw people inferior to me. These were my subjects, the people who wished and dreamed they could have what I did, but knew they never could. I looked at all my defeated opponents and felt a surge, a thrill of pride when they looked at me with such jealousy and dismay. There was always that feeling of achievement that drove me forward and intoxicated me with its potency.

But this...this was just me, standing in an empty office with a piece of metal on my head.

Yes, it was beautiful. Yes, I loved the look of authority I had when I was wearing it. But that feeling of dominance over all was conspicuously absent. There was nothing special about this thing on my head, nothing but a hollow image of myself in the mirror and the odd twisting feeling in my stomach, knowing that I was nothing more than a child playing dress-up.

The crown means nothing without the achievement behind it.

But wait...that means...that could mean that...

See, the one thing I always hated about losing to Yami was that he took away my feeling of control. For a while there, before Pegasus' Duelist Kingdom, before that duel with Exodia, I really felt that I had control of my life. I could manage my company and the Big Five, I had Pegasus as a business partner, and I was feared and respected by duelists everywhere. I'd chosen my dragons as my signature monsters, and just the mention of "Blue Eyes" was enough to send more timid duelists running. The ones I'd defeated made comparisons between the way I acted when I dueled and the dragons themselves, their voices quaking in fear when they whispered that I had the fury of a Blue Eyes White Dragon and eyes to match.

Then along came Yami, and...

Heh. Well, in the words of the rhyme, "All Seto's monsters and all Seto's men couldn't put his soul together again."

In the moment my soul was shattered, so too was my delusion of confidence. Any threads of control I'd held slipped from my grasp like grains of sand, and the shards of my former life left bloody gashes in my skin as they tumbled to the ground.

Yami left me there with a few cryptic words of triumph, humiliated for the first time in my life in front of my dearest little brother. He left me all alone in a dark, scary place with the scattered pieces of my heart around me. There were weird noises coming from the outside-place, but I was sitting in a little circle of light and I was pretty sure the scary things wouldn't try to get me while I was there. All the little pieces of the puzzle were inside the light-circle, anyway. I could just stay there in the warmth and work on it whenever I wanted, and when I didn't I could just sit there in the light and daydream. The ground was smooth under my little overalls, and when I closed my eyes I could pretend I was in the middle of a dragon's forest, all alone in a meadow somewhere.

For the first time in my life, I could just...relax.

It was peaceful for a while, but then I finished the heart-puzzle and returned to my old life. But still, a part of me knew that the person calling himself Yugi Mutou had taken something away from me that day, and that I couldn't rest until I'd regained it.

He's made his way over to me by now, and I can see his little fan club gathering closer out of the corner of my eye, wanting to hear what he's going to say to me.

The crown I'd prized so much looks strange sitting on his brow, as if he'd be more suited to a headdress than a dainty circlet of metal.

He's holding out my card.

Whatever will I do?

"Thank you, Kaiba," he says quietly, staring at me with those odd crimson eyes of his. This isn't Yugi now, controlling their shared body. This is Yami I'm speaking to. The pharaoh I supposedly served five millennia in the past.

"And what have I done to be thanked for?" I reply coldly, crossing my arms over my chest.

He wasn't expecting that, I don't think. He seems to stumble for an answer for the briefest of moments, then finds that air of authority he must've perfected when he was pharaoh. "You gave me the card I needed to defeat the Winged Dragon of Ra," he answers, looking up to stare at me again.

I wonder what he's thinking right now. Does he see his former priest when he looks into my eyes? Is he mentally judging my answers, comparing them to ones given in the ancient past?

And then, suddenly, everything falls into perspective for me.

"Why, _pharaoh_," I murmur, voice positively dripping with sarcasm, "Here I thought you believed in _destiny_. If I truly am who you say, and the past is as Ishizu described, why in the _world_ would you thank me for the loan of that card? If you needed that card to win, and _destiny_ says that you would indeed win, that means my _humble_ actions were predetermined. Obviously I had no choice in what I did, isn't that right?"

I hear a gasp to my right, and a cry of surprise from Yami's friends. Gee, I guess none of them expected me to have the audacity to talk back to the mighty king of everything he does.

Seeing no reason to stop with my rant, I gladly continue. "How lovely that crown looks on your head, _pharaoh_. It must feel familiar to you, having such a brand of power. Pity it's such an empty victory."

Yes...it's all suddenly so clear to me. The control he'd wrenched away from me could be claimed again in a single, perfect instant...and I was never one to pass up a perfect opportunity.

I just wonder why I hadn't seen it before.

"Whadda ya mean, "empty"?!" Wheeler demands, taking a step towards me. What an obedient little lap dog he is, trained to defend his masters. "You're just jealous that he won and not you!"

"The salvation of the world certainly makes it meaningful," Ishizu adds quietly, her eyes searching mine for my intent.

Foolish woman. She should know better. I long ago learned how to mask any emotion I felt, unless I deemed it necessary to show it off.

"If I believed that the fate of the world really rested on that," I respond with a shrug. "Who's to say? Obviously it's not going to happen now. And if your beloved _destiny_ is real, what's the point of all the fuss? He was _destined_ to win. The world was never in any danger, as far as I'm concerned."

"Ungrateful jerk," I hear Tristan mumble, off to the side. But since when have I ever cared about what any of them say?

"So you saved the world, my great and powerful pharaoh Yami." I bow deeply, mockingly so. "And you have a scrap of metal, a bunch of flowers, and three obscenely powerful cards to show for it. Bravo, you."

"You didn't brush off the God Cards so lightly during the tournament, Kaiba," he replies calmly, but I can tell I'm trying his patience. How sad that even the wise and powerful King of Games can't guess my revelation.

"It's absolutely _wonderful_ for you. Now you have the three most powerful cards in the game of Duel Monsters at your disposal. No one in the world will _ever_ be able to beat you. Congratulations."

I can see him mulling that over...and suddenly his eyes widen in almost horrified recognition. Ah, good. You've finally figured out what I know.

You and I play for different reasons, Yami no Yugi. I play the game of Duel Monsters to achieve, to prove my greatness and worth. Winning is the meaningful part of the game in my eyes. Occasionally, I'll duel with Mokuba, but that's just for fun, so he can build up his experience. Any other time, I play to win.

Why do _you_ play, wise and powerful pharaoh?

"That's right. You now have the cards at your disposal to win without breaking a sweat. And you'll have amateurs with delusions of grandeur going up against you by the dozens, trying to win those precious cards from your hands. But you can beat them easily now, can't you. Disgustingly easy. But do tell me, pharaoh, where is the _fun_ in dueling if you can win within four moves? Where is the _challenge_ in that?"

Yami looks stunned now. His eyes are wide and horrified by my words, and it appears that the card I loaned him is about to tumble from his hand. His friends, too, are shocked into silence. Mokuba is staring at me, but I can't read his reaction to my words as well as I can to the others.

"What makes that crown of yours anything more than a piece of metal, pharaoh?" I inquire softly, staring directly into his blood red eyes. "The authority it holds is a treasure that must be won, and the domination it offers is domination only over those who were defeated to achieve it. What kind of prize is it to rule over weaklings and amateurs?"

"But there's still you," Yami whispers, just as softly, and suddenly we're the only two people in the universe. Nothing else matters. Just his eyes and his smile and his crown...

His worthless little crown.

"I'm not stupid, pharaoh. What gain is there for me to duel you if the three God Cards offer you an assured win? Unlike you, I fight for the thrill of winning, not the thrill of dueling. And if I have no possibility of winning, why would I waste the time in dueling you?"

"You are my ancient rival...to this day, you remain the only person who has ever given me a real challenge in dueling. Would you give up on me so easily?" He looks sad...dejected..._lonely_...

Hmmm...perhaps he and I were something _more_ than rivals once...

"I won't play a game I can't win, Yami." Aha. The first time I've called him by name. He'll remember this. "When you find a new one for us to play, when we're on equal footing, you let me know."

And with that, I turn and leave the Battle City Finals behind me for good.

What do you know. I finally beat him at something.

Who's in control now, hmm? Who is in control now?

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To Be Continued...

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And there you have it! Please leave a review telling me what you thought, whether it's good, needs work, whatever. Joey the Flame Swordsman and Flamina, the Angel Minion of Fire, will obliterate any cruel, nasty, or otherwise unpleasant reviews. This work is mine and mine alone, so please don't plagiarize, either. Having said all that...PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!


	2. A Game Of Chess

Disclaimer: If they were mine, Seto's birthday present would be a lifetime of slavery in my possession. Fortunately for him, he, Yami, and Yu-Gi-Oh in general do not belong to me.

Seto: Whew.

Yami: Double whew.

Author's Notes: Well, this is part two of "End of the End". As some of my reviewers have been pointing out, there was no physical crown awarded at the end of Battle City. This is true. However, I decided to create one for this story to help emphasize Seto and Yami's similarities and differences—for example, though both agree that a crown means nothing without an achievement behind it, Seto duels for the thrill of the win, while Yami duels for the thrill of the game.

With that in mind, understand that this story will NOT accurately follow the current storyline in the Dartz Arc. It's quite possible that there will be some significant differences between what I write and what you see on TV, so don't go nuts trying to figure out where this story fits in. I'll probably follow in the general direction of the current arc, but the events that happen here are most likely my own creations.

Here we go with part two of "End of the End"...and a very happy birthday to Seto Kaiba, who inspired this whole thing.

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I really should be working.

I have fourteen projects that need to be done in an hour. I should be working. I have to work to maintain my company to keep earning money to support Mokuba. If I don't work, his standard of living will go down. I won't allow that to happen.

So why, then, am I sitting in this hard wooden chair at my coffee table, staring blankly at a chessboard while Yami Mutou contemplates his next move?

He showed up at my office this morning, carrying a box with this chess set in it. I'd left express orders that I didn't want to be disturbed, but Mokuba apparently saw him and let him in. Life would be so much easier if I could just bring myself to yell at him for that, but I can't. I could never bring myself to scold Mokuba for my own stupid problems.

I wish Yami would hurry up and move already.

Apparently, this is the game he decided upon for our rematch. That stupid crown is sitting on the corner of the table, glinting in the overhead lights. There's a strand of his multicolored hair clinging to it; I can tell he only brought it here to mock me. He knows I can never win back what I lost, no matter how hard I try. And I'm not just talking about my title, either. The sheer symbolism was completely lost the day he was crowned winner of Battle City.

Now that crown's back to being nothing more than a piece of metal.

Yes, I got the better of him that day. I still relish that moment. But that's the only time it'll ever happen. Seems like, without even trying, he manages to best me at whatever game we decide to play.

Speaking of not even trying...he just moved.

...I've seen _third-graders_ make more insightful moves than the one he just made.

What in the world is Yami Mutou doing?!

Shrugging, I sweep in with my rook, tearing through his defenses. "Check."

He eyes the board, smiling a little at me before shifting his own queen to block me. "Not anymore."

He's up to something. He could've blocked me with his remaining bishop...but he chose to sacrifice his queen. Why on earth would he make such a stupid move? The queen is the one with all the power...the queen is the one who commands the board...and he's just giving her up without a second thought.

That's it, I can't take it anymore. I want to know what the heck he's doing. If he's making a mockery of my favorite game...

"Why did you do that?" I ask him casually, taking his queen off the board. "You had the opportunity to save your queen, but didn't."

He smiles again, moving the bishop to take my rook. "I wanted my holy bishop to live a little longer."

With these words, he gives me a meaningful, knowing look, and sits back while I plan my next move.

If he's trying to distract me, he's doing a very good job of it. I get the feeling that he chose those words specifically, as if he were trying to send some hidden message. There's something here I'm missing...and I really wish he'd stop looking at me like that.

I make some random move, still thinking. He said "holy bishop"...it couldn't be that he just got the name of the piece wrong, could it? _Holy_ bishop...yet all the other names of the pieces, he gets correct. Pawn, knight, rook, queen, king...and the _holy_ bishop. Why? What's so special about that one?

What the _heck_ am I missing here?!

He didn't refer to the other one as holy. Just that one. Like he can keep them separate? They're the same piece...but this one is the black-square bishop. I know I'm missing something, but I can't seem to think right now.

Yami's smiling at the move I made while I was thinking. He must've known it was an impulsive, unconscious one. He's just got that look on his face. "You always instinctively rely on your white queen," he says cryptically, shifting a pawn. "How predictable of you, Kaiba."

That's it. Now I'm mad.

"What kind of nonsense are you spouting, Mutou?!" I snap, slamming my knight viciously against his shifted pawn. The little plastic piece goes flying across the room, clattering against the wall and onto the floor. "Make your move and get this over with! I have work to do!"

"You're so angry all of a sudden. Have I done something wrong? I'm just trying to make small talk..."

This is all just a stupid little game to him. It's not about the chess anymore. No, I see what it is now...the chess game is just a farce. The real game he's playing is something more, something completely different. It's a game of words and pictures...but what is there to win? What's the prize?

What is he_ after_?!

The _holy_ bishop...the queen's sacrifice...putting faith in the white queen...what does it all mean? How do they tie in?

I turn and stare at the box containing our captured pieces. Our different styles of gameplay are perfectly evident right there. Most of my pawns are gone...they're useless pieces anyway. The rook I sacrificed to take his queen is also gone, as well as a few other pieces. But Yami has saved all but one of his pawns, and he's lost his white bishop and that queen instead...

Why would he sacrifice his queen?!

Why _did_ he sacrifice his queen?

Why did he save the bishop...in the queen's place?

Why was the holy bishop more important to him...?

I glance at the board. His bishop is still guarding the king, making it near impossible for me to get in. He's got the king sheltered behind a row of pawns and the bishop defending the only exit. How ironic that he chose those pieces to defend his precious king...the two pieces I always saw as pathetically weak are the ones he chose as his personal guardians.

His...?

Did I just refer to Yami as the king?

...Is THAT what I've been missing this whole time?!

Suddenly, everything begins to fall into place. If Yami, as pharaoh, is represented by the king, that would make the pawns his loyal subjects. That fits from what I know of Yami's personality. He never saw things my way, would never sacrifice the weak to protect the strong. He uses the weak in unique ways to achieve a goal together.

His knights would then be loyal subjects...guards...anything like that. His queen, of course, would be his pharaohess; his rooks some form of servant or inspector, perhaps.

That would leave the bishops to be his priests...his _holy_ priests...

But only the _black_ one was holy. Only the _dark _mage...

Dark magician!

Of course he'd choose his dark magician to be his protector! He specifically took the black pieces to set up that stupid metaphor...and taking them left me with the white ones, which I prefer anyway. Here I thought I was getting _my_ way, when really I was just collecting the leftovers from _him_...

...Or was I?

Hadn't he said something about me trusting my white queen? This was no coincidence. He'd planned this. But who is the white queen?

Yami smiles at my hesitation. "Is something wrong, Blue-Eyes? Have I confounded you? Make your move and win the game, if you can."

And just like that, he gave me the clue I needed to win.

I fix him with a glare. "The game is over. I win."

"Is that so?"

"This entire game is pointless. It's just an illusion. So I'll have my Blue Eyes White Dragon attack—" Here I move my white queen in and take his bishop, "—your Dark Magician. Check and mate."

I look at him smugly, but he hasn't faltered. "That's true. Except it wasn't my Dark Magician you were attacking."

"Excuse me?"

"You got everything right except one. It was never about the Dark Magician. He is my loyal servant, yes. But the queen's sacrifice would be meaningless to him."

"Then why do I care?!"

He smirks at me. "Why, Kaiba...haven't you always said you care for no one but yourself?"

..._ME_?!

"Me?! What kind of trick is this? You make no sense!"

"Long ago in ancient times, a sacred game was played of both spirit and mind. And the sole person who could control the darkness of the Shadow Games almost as well as myself was my most holy priest—" Yami lectured, smiling.

I cut him off, knowing his words before he said them. "—High Priest Seth."

"The highest of all dark magicians under my command."

"You sacrificed your wife and possible heirs for him."

"I would have sacrificed my kingdom for him."

"Oh? And what did _he_ think about that?"

"He hated me. Much as you hate me. And yet...he appreciated my sacrifice, I think, in his own way."

"Don't you DARE compare me to that weakling," I hiss, and with a swipe of my arm the chessboard is cleared of pieces. "He is _nothing_ like me."

"Possibly. But then again, you don't know Seth the way I did. And I also know you've been having dreams lately...dreams of sand. Dreams of the desert."

"I do not believe in magic."

"You are his reincarnation."

"I do _not_ believe in _magic_."

"Yet you believe in me."

"I don't know what you are, Pharaoh Yami no Yugi, but this is my company and my life, and I want you out of both!"

He rises from his seat and walks around the table to my chair, quickly brushing bangs off my face as he leans in to brush his lips over my forehead. Startled, I shove him away, not noticing the glint of gold falling into my lap as he ensnared me.

Smirking at me one last time, Yami picks up his crown and heads for the door, turning halfway and tossing one last comment over his shoulder before he leaves my office for good.

"Happy birthday, Seto Kaiba."

And as my door swung shut, I dimly became aware of a burning glow emanating from my forehead...

A glow that matched that of the Millennium Rod—Yami's birthday gift to me.

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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Well, I think Yami put it best of anybody. Happy birthday, Seto Kaiba! Of course, the fact that I've left it to be continued should indicate that a possible plot thread took off about halfway through this chapter, and now I'm on the run. I'll probably add one or two more chapters to this, depending on how the mood strikes me.

It's also worthwhile to note that this story takes place between the end of Battle City, as written about in the previous chapter, and the current Atlantis arc. Next chapter will most likely take place in the openings of the arc, when KaibaCorp is being blamed for the monsters terrorizing the city...or else it'll be a meeting between Yami and Seto after both have claimed their dragons. That's my best guess, anyway.

Seto: Happy birthday to me! Woot!

Yami: You so rock.

Seto: That I do.

As always, leave me reviews and tell me what you think, be they nice, annoyed, critical, whatever. Just please do it in a polite fashion. Joey the Flame Swordsman and Flamina the angel minion of fire are ready and waiting to do away with any and all flames that may come my way, so DO NOT FLAME ME. Constructive criticism is welcome, flames are NOT. That said, please read and review!


	3. Dream A Little Dream

Disclaimer: The word "fanfiction" is an interesting one. The first half, "fan" comes from the root word "fanatic", which indicates that the characters of which you are a "fan" do not belong to you. "Fiction", then, indicates a story or plotline that is not real. Being that this story is a "fanfiction", it is thereby safe to assume that A) I am not Kazuki Takahashi and B) I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.

Seto: You're such a legal freak.

Yami: Jeez. A simple "They're not mine" would've sufficed.

Me: But where's the style in that?

Author's Notes: Three chapters. I never honestly thought this little plot bunny would make it this far. At any rate, I'm trying my best to get back in the habit of writing, but homework and the play I'm in make that difficult sometimes. Still, I am bound and determined to see this thing out. Special thanks go out to Jia no hime, as always, and also to my buddies Nagi, Schuschu, and Yohji (the pimp). You keep me sane and smiling, no matter what.

This piece takes place the evening immediately after Yami and Seto's chess game. Chronologically speaking, the Dartz Arc has not started yet, although that _will_ be taking place very soon. Until then, enjoy this piece of "End of the End"!

...And by the way, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

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_The burning wouldn't go away..._

_Broken fingernails clawed at the enflamed area, nearly drawing blood and etching trails of angry red on the delicate skin._

"_Make it stop..."_

_Something was waiting, growing within him. Something angry and hateful and vengeful...something that wanted to possess him and control him and dominate him..._

_No!_

_NO!_

_Nothing dominated him—he was in control—he could control this—there's no such thing!_

_NO SUCH THING!_

_Stumbling through the darkness; haunting footsteps quickening behind him, a thick shadow looming over him, snuffing out all light..._

_Could he scream for a savior? _

_As if any would hear...who cared about him? Scared little orphan-child, who would come to YOUR rescue?_

"_There's something very dark inside you, Seto Kaiba..."_

_No...no...he wasn't evil...he was dark so Mokuba wouldn't have to be...he was evil so Mokuba could be pure..._

_The shifting, melting dragon-thing caught him in its jaws and swallowed him up in one hideous motion._

"_Why didn't you save me?" the pure one had cried._

_There was an ancient echo to those words...a deeper voice had uttered them once, one that commanded power and authority..."Why didn't you save me?"_

_He was supposed to save him._

_He fell and fell and fell for ages, screaming and clawing and kicking at the thin air as if his flailing could somehow defy the laws of gravity. It's not the fall—it's the sudden stop that kills you._

_Kills you._

_Killed him._

_The sudden stop had killed Gozaburo Kaiba._

_Ha, ha...had Gozaburo felt like this as he fell to his doom?_

_Falling, falling, falling into insanity..._

_Falling into hideous blackness..._

_This time, there was no black-haired angel to catch his fall._

"_HELP ME!" Words so foreign to him echoed through the barren ebony air, drawing the attention of all the ghouls cloaked in the midnight sky._

_The icy winds whipped his hair and chilled his skin, but did nothing to stop the torturous burning that still plagued his forehead._

"_GET IT OFF!" he shrieked, curling into a fetal position and pressing his forehead into his knees. Tumbling through space, struggling to stop himself to no avail..._

_Second by second slipped away, and with each one seemed to come a year of his life; now he was nothing more than a child in an adult's body...a tiny, shivering boy trapped in a form with gangly limbs and a mop of dirt-colored hair..._

"_What have you done?!"_

_His voice, yet not his own, called out over the sands. Yes, he could see the ground now, the rolling hills of dark sands and ribbons of black water that cut through them. It was cold down there, cold and desolate and alone..._

_And he was falling into the middle of a war._

_A quiet splash, and he was clawing his way up through inky water, fighting the current in desperation, trying to lift his face out of the murk before his air ran out and the blackness consumed him for the final time..._

_He finally broke the surface, panting and fighting back tears as he shivered from the cold, and it was then that he heard the voices._

"_What...what have you done to me?!"_

_A tired voice in the night. "It was necessary...I'm not happy about it either."_

"_You have condemned me to a fate I did not ask for!"_

_There was that voice again...that one that sounded like him...but his lips weren't moving. Who was this...?_

_Gold flashed; eyes narrowed. "Did we not agree long ago? Did you not utter the same words I did? 'Where you go, so shall I follow, and where you stay, there shall I be as well.' Is that not the promise we made?"_

_The first voice, the him-voice, growled. "I had assumed you would at least consult me before making a decision of this magnitude. Are we not equals? Or do you still consider me your subordinate?"_

_Oh, oh...but now the golden one was sad. He could tell. It washed over him in a wave of despair, threatening to knock him back into the water even as he crawled up onto the sands._

"_We can never be equals...no matter how much I want you to be," the sad, regal figure murmured. "Not here, not in this time...but someday."_

"_I do not want to wait..."_

"_You are too stubborn and impatient for your own good."_

"_I am everything you are not, and then some. It is why you keep me around, remember?"_

_And then, the looming feeling of despair was washed away, replaced by a feeling of lightness with just this one phrase. The golden one seemed to glow brighter, and the familiar one glanced away quickly. Was that embarrassment? He couldn't tell from his hiding place behind the dune._

"_It is a win-win situation," the golden one murmured, back to being serious. "With me gone, you can have the object of your dreams and aspirations...the world will be saved...your rule will be a golden age of prosperity."_

"_And you will be locked away. I see no paradise in that."_

"_It is your birthright."_

"_My birthright is a hollow title and a place at your side. There is nothing else for me."_

_A tiny, smug smile. "That is not what you tell your father."_

"_My father wants to be the father of a living god. I have no such aspirations. Let the old fool believe his dreams will come true. He will be dead soon, anyway."_

"_You will be a good king. And you will claim your final dragon, and be the most powerful man in the history of the world because of it. You know quite well no man has ever tamed all four. You shall be the first and only."_

_The familiar one smirked. "Were it not for you, I would have already tamed it. That one is too loyal for her own good."_

"_She will grow to love you, as she has loved me."_

"_She...is not alone."_

_At that moment, the burning on his forehead flared and he screamed; hurling himself back into the icy river in the hopes that it could provide some sort of relief. But the damage was done; the two figures in the clearing turned, startled by the sudden announcement of an eavesdropper, and disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing but the memory of their horrified faces behind._

_The current swept him away, faster and colder and more horrifying with each passing second..._

_His heart leaped to his throat as he slid under the surface for the final time..._

_His arms erupted in a stream of red and he slowly, slowly sank to the bottom, engulfed in a liquid crimson cloud._

"AGH!"

My arm hurt. That was the first thing that occurred to me.

Slowly, fearfully, I looked down. There was a long cut running down my left arm, a tiny droplet of red leaking from the angry scratch.

Heh...my first real, coherent thought was, "Great...just another reason to wear long sleeves."

But...but I had this feeling...a very odd feeling, as if I weren't alone in the room...

The Millennium Rod was lying on the ground—how had it gotten down there?—with blood on one of its sharp wings.

Maybe it was just me...but I could've sworn the metal was glowing...just like the golden person in my dream...

A chill ran down my spine. I don't know why. I was just...I don't know.

I didn't want to look up.

There was something there that I didn't want to see.

I did not want to look up.

Blood and gold and desert sands...

Finally, choking back a pathetic-sounding whimper, I tore my eyes from the ancient metal and looked up.

A pair of cold blue eyes stared back at me.

---------------

TO BE CONTINUED...

---------------

Oooo, eerie, isn't it? Whoever could THAT be, staring back at Seto? Mwahaha.

Seto: You're evil.

Yami: And also blatantly obvious.

Seto: I can't believe you just left a cliffhanger. Punk.

Me: Would you rather I just ended the whole dumb story?

Seto: NO!

Yami: ...?

Seto: Er...that is...um...yeah, I can think of at least three people who would kill you if you did that.

Me: Hm, good point.

Yami: Whatever. Ooh, look, turkey...

Seto: Mmmm, turkey.

Let's see...for once, I'm going to take a few notes at the end of this chapter, pointing out and/or explaining a few things that went on here.

Anything in italics was Seto's dream. It's also in third-person because he was having one of those out-of-body dreams, where you see yourself performing actions and are still aware it's you, but you're not actually controlling the body yourself. Weird. The little bit at the end reverted back to first person, as Seto awoke from his dream. It was written in past tense, whereas the other two chapters were first person, present tense. This was intentional.

As far as the plotline goes, I think I'll be following Seto's movements as he progresses through the Dartz Arc, which also means I'll have some room to improv. After all, he certainly couldn't have been sitting in his office working that ENTIRE time, right? Heehee.

Speculations or further scenario ideas are welcome; please leave them in a review. If you leave me a question, I'll try to answer it in my author's notes next chapter. If you give me a really good idea and I decide to use it, I will certainly give you credit and thanks for it. And as always, kind reviews in general are heartily appreciated, as is constructive criticism. Flames and nasty notes, however, are not, and Joey the Flame Swordsman and Flamina, the angel minion of fire, are standing by waiting to take care of any of them. Thank you all once again, and please read and review!


	4. The Past Is Present

Disclaimer: Why do you even bother reading this disclaimer anymore? It's still, STILL, not mine. Just no. Not going to happen anytime soon. Nice try, but now.

Seto: Jeez. Bitter much?

Yami: What am I even doing here? I'm not in this story anymore. Feh.

Seto: Whine, whine, whine. This is MY story for a change. Stop trying to steal MY glory.

Yami: You're just jealous.

Seto: Bah.

Author's Notes: Okay, I know. I haven't updated in nearly three months. And if it hadn't been for a review I just read this evening, I probably would've forgotten about this story...so kudos to you, mistresscorrupt. Your astute observation has incited me to post this piece, and possibly even write more.

Whether I do or not, this chapter takes us right up to the beginning of the Dartz Arc, and that means it's capable of ending where I left it, if need be. With a little persuasion, though, I might just have to continue. As always, special thanks go out to Schuschu and Jia, both of whom I love to death, and also both of whom deserve lots and lots of hugs. So you should all head on over and read their fics.

Formalities aside, I present to you...PART FOUR!

-.-.-.-.-.-

It's been a week now, since that nightmare.

Everything's changed. My world has been turned upside down, sideways, and shaken out like an old rag in the back of a closet.

I think, given the circumstances, I'm dealing with it very well.

One week ago, when I awoke from my nightmare with blood running down my arm and that accursed piece of metal lying on the floor, I still thought magic was utter nonsense. I didn't believe in it because I didn't have to. I could explain everything away, and continue pretending that I controlled my own destiny.

Still, I have to admit I'd been having some suspicions of my own beliefs, ever since that whole soul-stealing bit that Pegasus pulled. Something happened, all right. But I pretended not to believe it, tried to make it go away by denying its existence, just the way a child closes his eyes to pretend something's not there simply because he can't see it anymore.

I've opened my eyes now. I'm not just the foolish child I used to be.

It's kind of hard to _not_ believe in magic when you've got the five-thousand-year old spirit of an ancient Egyptian priest co-inhabiting your body.

Heh, heh, heh. He's still cranky about the fact that he has to _share_.

-.-

The first thing I saw when I looked up that day was a pair of blue eyes. Just eyes—nothing else had processed in my mind yet. Cold blue eyes and a very, _very_ bad feeling.

It took me a moment to realize that I could feel a strange warmth coming from the end of the bed, even though there was no depression in the mattress. Something was there...and yet, it wasn't.

Then a face appeared out of the shadows, peering at me in something akin to confusion.

My first instinct was to scream. My second instinct was to grab the intruder by the neck and snap it. Kill first, ask questions later—that's what Gozaburo Kaiba had always emphasized. Cruel, yes, but still...

I made a grab for the intruder, but he disappeared into thin air.

Or at least, my hands went _through_ thin air.

A face identical to mine, albeit a bit more tanned, moved closer to my own. This thing on the end of my bed was acting like a curious puppy, slowly moving closer, eyes wide in wonder.

I backed away as much as I could, thinking I was just hallucinating. I mean, there was nothing there, right? If there had been something there, I would've broken its neck by now. If I could've caught it, it would be dead. There couldn't be anything there...could there?

"_Iiti em hotep_," the phantom said softly.

Okay. NOW I was getting scared.

I know my brain was racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to deal with this...this _thing_ that was a person except that it wasn't, but I could see it and it could see me and it was talking to me but it couldn't be real, it couldn't be there because if it were there it would be dead, or maybe it was already dead and back from the dead trying to kill me, except that there's no such thing as ghosts...

"W-What are you?" I managed to stammer out, completely lost as to what to do.

My instincts were screaming to run, or perhaps to kill and then run, but I couldn't get by, could I? I was trapped against the headboard and here was this strange, shifting, shadow-thing that could disappear into thin air and yet was talking to me in words I didn't understand...

It paused a minute, its nonexistent brow furrowing a bit. "_Iiti em hotep_," it tried again, slowly and firmly.

It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it...but this thing was trying to communicate, so it obviously wasn't going to kill me just yet. I supposed the first thing to do would be to try and answer it.

Now if only I knew what it was saying.

I shook my head, lifting my shoulders in the universal sign of confusion. "What are you?"

It pondered this a moment, before identical blue eyes lit up and it tried something new. "_Salve_?"

This registered in my head, fortunately. Thank goodness Gozaburo had forced me to learn Latin, despite my protests of it being a dead, pointless language. Latin I could understand.

I managed to nod. "_Salve_."

Its face broke into a smile and it began to chatter in an ancient dialect of Latin, far too fast and accented for me to follow. Holding out a hand and shaking my head, I tried to silence it.

"English?" I asked slowly, searching its misty face for confirmation.

It blinked once, twice, three times...and then twisted its lips into a slight frown. I cursed under my breath. We'd almost broken the barrier, and I'd gone and confused the thing even more.

Slowly, a misty finger reached out and touched my forehead. Bewildered, I stared at the thing, wide-eyed, not sure what it was doing. Was it curious, perhaps? Trying to establish some form of primal sign language?

Quite the contrary, I came to realize.

There was a flash of light, and suddenly there was a weird stretching sensation in my mind, as if my thoughts were pounding at the inner walls of my skull and fighting to be set free. My life didn't quite flash before my eyes, which was a relief, but for a few short moments I felt as though I was going to explode from the inside out...!

Then the thing pulled back, settled itself in a cross-legged position at the end of my bed, and molded its face into my own trademark smirk.

"Hello," it said in perfect English. "I'm very sorry about the confusion we had earlier. Now who are you and why do you have my Sennen Rod?"

At that point, I fell off the bed.

Once I got over the initial shock of hearing my own voice addressing me from the lips of this phantom on the end of my bed, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. This was the familiar figure I'd seen in my dream...the one who was angry with the golden one...the one who felt such betrayal and who was scared away by my screams.

"Who are you?" I demanded, taking small pleasure in the fact that the ghost would understand me this time.

"Which name would you like?" the phantom replied pleasantly, still smirking at me. "I have been called many names in my lifetime...I wonder if I even remember my given name at birth, after all these years..."

"Stop the games," I snapped, glaring at it.

"Very well, then. The name given to me at birth was Seth. My title..." His voice faltered here, suddenly sounding very sad. "My title is...pharaoh."

"Pharaoh!"

"Yes."

"That's a lie," I spat. "Yugi Mutou's split personality, the one who calls himself Yami and looks just like him, that one is the supposed pharaoh. Not you."

Seth looked hurt for a moment, but then his head shot up as realization sunk in. "Yami...?"

"Yes, Yami. You heard me. Short, spiky hair, red eyes. He claims he's the pharaoh from ancient Egypt, which means you can't be. Now stop lying and give me the truth."

"I have not lied to you..." Seth answered softly, glancing around the room. "But tell me more of this Yami you speak of. Do you have a picture of this person, perhaps? Who is he?"

At that point, I was still assuming that this thing was a figment of my imagination. I was either going crazy or I was still dreaming, and either way I didn't see any harm in humoring the thing. It hadn't tried to kill me...yet.

Shrugging, I walked over to the laptop sitting on my desk and pulled up my dueling files. I keep pictures and files of every duelist ranked in the top tenth percentile on my laptop, staying up-to-date with every win, loss, and advancement they make. And over ninety percent of the pictures in that database were of my oldest rival, Yami Mutou.

I pulled one up and motioned Seth over, gesturing to the screen as I filled a mug of coffee. "There. That's Yami Mutou. He's the current—" I winced, "—world champion of Duel Monsters."

Can shadows turn pale? Because I could swear that Seth did when he saw the image. "So he kept his promise..." the ancient one croaked out, reaching out a misty finger to touch the screen.

"Excuse me?"

"I...I did not lie to you when I said I was pharaoh," Seth replied, turning slowly to stare at me with dazed eyes. "That was the title I held at the time of my death...but the only one I truly earned was that of High Priest, under the wise and powerful Pharaoh...Yami."

My mug dropped to the floor, shattering as the boiling-hot liquid spattered in all directions.

He jumped, startled by the sudden noise. "What the—!"

"_You_! But—that means—that woman said that—it can't—" I stammered, completely unaware of the scalding liquid trickling around my feet.

"What is it?" Seth demanded, approaching me.

"That...that would mean..." I whispered. "That...you're _me_."

-.-

The fact that there's a spirit from ancient Egypt living in my body hasn't really sunk in yet, but I'm getting there. He's never really fought me for control of the body we now share...or even asked for it, now that I think about it. He seems content to just follow me around as a spirit, talking to me whenever we're alone.

That's one of the few rules I set down from the start. If he talks to me while there's someone else in the room, I won't answer. I am _not_ about to start sounding crazy just for his sake. There's way too much at stake for me to do that.

I'm just working right now, sitting in the office and wading through paperwork at KaibaCorp while Mokuba's at school. Seth is looking out the window, I think. He's not used to being up this high in the air. He's also not used to being surrounded by so much silver metal—he says his domain back in Egypt was mostly stone with gold adornments.

"Have you ever loved, Seto?" he remarks softly, hearing a momentary lull in my typing.

His voice sounds distant. He must be thinking of Egypt again.

"Not really. Never had the time."

He chuckles a little, somehow managing to sound extremely sad. "We had a fable, back in Egypt...one about true love. About making the choice between life and death for your love."

"As do we. Several, in fact. Authors in this time seem to be more enthralled with the concept of love than with any other," I remark, turning away from my work. He's got my attention now...besides, I can afford a little break. It's a lot easier to pry information from Seth when he's musing on the past.

"The Damsel or the Demon, we called it," he continues, placing a fingertip against the window. "It's a story of choices...which is the lesser evil? Sacrificing the one you love to death? Or having to watch as they marry another, and living the rest of your life without them?"

"Death," I reply promptly, leaning back in my chair as he turns to look at me in amazement.

"So quickly you answer...why choose death for your beloved?"

"It's better than sharing them. If it were true love, I would sooner kill my lover with my own two hands than have to live out the rest of my days, knowing they still lived but I could never reach them again."

"Then in the same way, you would sooner kill Mokuba than let him be sent away for the rest of his life, never to see you again?"

I wince at that, my answer suddenly becoming much harder to accept. "I...I don't know. If I didn't think he would have a good life...then yes, I would."

He turns and manages a weak smile at me. "I hope you never are faced with such a choice."

"I'm sorry that you were."

"I had an option that the story did not consider...the possibility of life after death," Seth murmurs, leaning against the glass. "The opportunity to meet myself in a distant future."

"Did Yami know you were in the Rod?" I ask quietly, anxious to know the pharaoh's ancient plans. "Is that why he gave it to me?"

"Likely. Perhaps he also wanted you to realize the possibility of magic, and thus further trust him. My pharaoh was well known for playing games within games, his every move an enigma wrapped in a mystery. I knew him all his life, and even beyond the moment of his death, I could never unravel all his riddles. They were his favorites, you know. A meaning within a meaning."

"Is that so? Riddles...as in word games?"

"Child's games. Just little things," Seth answers with a nod. "Ones such as, 'the more of me you take, the more of me you leave.' Simple little puzzles."

"Footprints. I see what you mean now. If it's any consolation, he's still doing it."

"Is he now?" Seth sounds amused. "Such as?"

"He and I played a game of chess. He kept making references to my 'white queen' and his 'holy bishop'."

"And the answers?"

"The Blue Eyes White Dragon, and you."

"Ah. A bishop is a priest, then. Something that you would understand that tied to the past. He's more used to this new future than I am, it seems."

"Yes. Which reminds me: the television set is not possessed by demons. You can stop trying to cast them out. Same goes for the telephone and the radio." I smirk at him, watching as he kicks at the carpet in embarrassment.

"Humph. It's not natural for inanimate objects to speak as though they were people. My reactions were perfectly natural. I don't see why you find it so humorous."

"You just keep telling yourself that. Any other good riddles?"

"My favorite one. 'Never was I, and yet always to be, that which I am has no man ever seen, yet I am the confidence now and for all, who live and who breathe on this sapphire ball.' Do you know what the answer is, Seto?" He smiles, knowing he's momentarily stumped me with the rhyme.

I mouth the words as they run through my head, trying all the possibilities. "Tomorrow," I say finally, nodding with affirmation. "It sort of makes you wonder, doesn't it? Puts the world into perspective, I mean. Makes one feel insignificant."

"I felt that way sometimes. Usually when I was staring into the eyes of my dragons. They were so massive, so powerful...so beautiful..."

But I wasn't listening to Seth anymore. I was too busy staring.

For at the moment he said those words, a dragon flew past my window.

A real, live dragon.

And then everything went black.

-.-.-.-.-.-

TO BE CONTINUED...

-.-.-.-.-.-

Oooooo, freaky.

Seto: Psh. Hardly.

Yami: THEY'RE REAL! REAL MONSTERS! AAAAAA!

Seto: That was a TV show, back in the day.

Yami: What?

Seto: Aaah, Real Monsters.

Yami: ...

Seto: Yeah. Really.

And there you have it. We've reached the beginning of the Dartz Arc, and only one minor change has been made—now it appears that Seth will be accompanying Seto throughout the entire Arc. Interesting to think how Seto's actions might've been influenced by the voice of experience in his mind, hmm? Maybe he's starting to believe in magic after all...

Speculation and plot suggestions are, as always, welcome. Reviews are greatly appreciated, as are constructive criticism. Flames, however, are NOT welcome, and Joey the Flame Swordsman and Flamina, the angel minion of fire, are standing by to take care of that. I hope you enjoyed part four, and please read and review!


End file.
